


I've Seen Everything

by orphan_account



Series: To Boldly Go... [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blind Dating AU, Blind!Jim, Fluff, Genius Kirk, Hurt/Comfort, Kobayashi Maru, M/M, Pre-Series, Slow Burn, Spirk Endgame, Spock/T'Pring bond, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 20:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13983045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Blind Academy Cadet Jim Kirk sets his mind to something, he knows he will achieve it.  He'll win the Kobayashi Maru, and in spite of Starfleet's prejudices against people with disabilities, he will captain a vessel.  Some day.  No matter the cost.  He just doesn't expect the angry Vulcan who attempted to have him brought up on ethics charges to change his motivations.  And he certainly doesn't expect to fall in love with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I literally came here to write this because there's no Blind Dating AU in this fandom and I couldn't let that happen. Seriously it's the worst most adorable Chris Pine romcom ever. I tried to change enough that it's not exactly like the movie because you know, obviously what's the fun in that if it's the exact same. It's set in like a combo of the AU and Canon verse, I guess. Everyone lives pretty much.
> 
> This fic is in two parts, and part two should be up in a few days.

“Okay and where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Kirk only stopped when the all-too familiar hand grabbed his arm and yanked him backward. His feet skid across the pavement for a second, but he righted himself before he fell, and managed a swift punch to the offender’s shoulder. “Where do you think I’m going?”

“You’ve already lost. Twice. Twice, Jim!”

Jim’s mouth spread in a grin so wide, his cheeks ached. “And I lost. Twice. Hence the third time.”

“Damn it. No one goes back for a third time!”

“I do.” Jim divested himself of his brother’s hands and turned. He gripped his cane tight in his hand, prepared to shove it back into his pocket the moment he reached the doors of the building. As he began to walk again, he could hear his brother’s steps echoing his own.

“The Kobayashi Maru can’t be won, Jim. What part of that didn’t you get? Dad even told you…”

“Dad’s the one who told me never settle,” Jim said as he walked the familiar path toward the building. “I have my team, and I have an ace up my sleeve.” The tip of his cane hit the door, and he turned, knowing his most charming smile would never charm his brother. “Wish me luck, Sammy.”

“Go fuck yourself, Jim,” Sam hissed.

Jim laughed himself all the way to the simulation.

~*~

“…alert medbay and prepare to receive all passengers.”

Spock stood stiffly, his hands behind his back. He’d seen this cadet not once, not twice, but now a third time assuming the command chair in an attempt to beat his simulation. It was not possible, of course. The point of the simulation was not to win, but to understand. The cadet, however brave, did not seem to entirely understand this, which was why Spock was certain this man would never occupy a real Captain’s chair.

“What the hell is he doing?” muttered Jakobs from the observation window.

“He is attempting a new tactic. One, I admit, I do not entirely understand.” Spock’s fingers grabbed his own wrists tighter when the lights flickered and the simulation, for a split second, powered down. It was up only moments later, but he made a mental note to have someone check programming for any potential faults.

“…shields are up, Jim!”

“Are they?”

Spock frowned, bristled at the way this cadet was casual, the way he lounged in the chair, never making eye-contact with any of his crew as though they didn’t matter, as though they were beneath him. It was yet another mark as to why he would never make Captain.

“Fire all phasers,” the cadet said.

Spock watched with fascination and internal confusion as every single one of the Klingon ships were destroyed. He watched as the cadet stood, took a bow, then made his way out of the room.

Jakobs rounded on him. “How the hell did he beat your test?”

Spock’s jaw was tight as he muttered, “I…do not know.”

But he intended to find out.

~*~

Jim groaned, letting his head fall on the table top as his hand gripped the cold pint half full of beer.

“You seriously didn’t think you weren’t going to get caught, did you?” Bones grumbled to his left.

Jim turned his head to the side and breathed out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, man. She’s an Orion, I didn’t expect her to fold like a wet noodle.”

“She’s an Orion,” Bones said. “She sold you out to save your ass. Far as I know, a Vulcan’s the one who programmed the simulation. You know he wasn’t going to let that rest until he found out who was responsible, and you forgot to cover your ass. She was the only one who had any contact with you. I swear, the things you do to your dick.”

Jim flushed as he heard Sam, to his left, cough. He didn’t really feel like disabusing Bones of that particular notion—that he was not only popular, and good looking, or so he was told—but also that he knew exactly what to do with his dick when it came to people who were interested. It was easier than admitting he was an awkward virgin who was too terrified to go beyond feeling up a breast or three. Which had only happened twice.

And luckily, as much as Sam was kind of an asshole, he was still protective over his brother’s reputation. And maybe a little of his virtue, however bullshit that was.

“Well now I have to meet with Pike.”

“And I’m sure the programming hobgoblin wants to drag you in front of an ethics committee,” Bones pointed out.

Jim groaned again. “Do you think I can play the poor blind kid card?”

“I don’t think it’s going to work a third time,” Sam muttered.

Jim flipped him off, then pushed himself up to sit before downing the rest of his beer. “Fine. But I’m getting wasted. Who’s volunteering to drag my ass home tonight?”

~*~

“I would appreciate you at least speaking to him before you pursue an ethics hearing.”

Spock lifted one eyebrow at the Captain, his hands clasped behind his back, secure in the knowledge that Pike could not read emotions from his face. In truth, Spock was feeling a conflicting mixture of human emotions, tugging at his insides. Emotions that left him meditating instead of concentrating on other obligations, which in turn, left him further frustrated. James Tiberius Kirk—who received special permission for entrance to the Academy, though Spock could not access the data to provide him with the answer as to why James Kirk needed special permission. He was the second son of the highly decorated Admiral George Kirk, and the renowned scientist Winona Kirk. His brother Sam was teaching there for now, and was expected to join a Starfleet vessel at the end of the term, and there was nothing in James Kirk’s scores or disciplinary record to show he would not meet the same fate.

But Pike seemed certain that an ethics hearing would damage the younger man’s future, and Spock was torn between his choices. He did not inform the Captain he had already initiated the hearing, and would be willing to withdraw the complaint should he find sufficient reason to do so.

He supposed it would all depend on meeting James himself.

The door opened shortly after Pike’s plea, and Spock turned to see the younger blonde man walking in. He, yet again, refrained from eye contact, and Spock had to wonder what sort of strange, cultural practice that was. He approached Pike’s desk and extended his hand for the customary human greeting, then turned and kept his gaze trained on the floor.

“I was told I was expected to give an apology,” Kirk said.

Spock almost sighed. Then berated himself for the near loss of control. “Your presence was requested to provide explanation,” he corrected. “Your actions on the Kobayashi Maru have been uncovered. What we desire now is to know why you felt it a necessary action.”

“Because the test was unfair,” Kirk said, his words coming through clenched teeth.

“Your participation in the test achieved the desired effect the first time you sat through it,” Spock replied, his voice and face neutral. He wished Kirk would look up at him. An illogical thought. “Your experience was no different to any other cadet, therefore your claim that the test was unfair to you…”

“Not to me,” Kirk said, and lifted his head, though he still did not look at Spock. “To anyone. To everyone! You can’t beat it.”

“It is designed as such. A no-win scenario…”

“I don’t believe in no-win scenarios,” Kirk growled at him.

Spock raised a brow and took a step into Kirk’s eyeline. He clenched his own wrists behind his back even harder. “It is illogical to use belief in this situation. There are, more often than not, no-win scenarios. Regarding many races in the galaxy, and it’s important any future Starfleet officer understands that this test was not about winning, but about how you conduct yourself in the face of failure.” Spock paused, and when Kirk didn’t interrupt, he glanced at Pike and then said, “Anyone who aspires to become a Starfleet Captain must see the purpose of this test. Because you cannot, it only proves you are unfit for the rank.”

Pike sucked in a breath, but before he could respond, Kirk took a step forward. “I can’t see it, because I’m blind. Which, Mr. Spock, is the actual reason I won’t ever hold that rank. Since we’re all aware of Starfleet’s specific…attitude toward people who don’t live up to their expectations. I altered the test to prove that I will not accept a no-win scenario, because my entire life I’ve been told everything I want to do is out of my reach. And I will not accept that. You’re more than welcome to drag me in front of the Board of Ethics. I already know the outcome.”

With that, in the utter silence of the room, Kirk turned and let himself out.

When the door shut with a slam, Spock turned to Pike and lifted a brow at him. “Was the blindness a metaphor?”

Pike sighed, shaking his head. “No. He’s blind. Zero percent light perception, injury at birth and by the time it was discovered too much damage had been done to the soft tissue there was no way to correct it. Admiral Kirk’s rank alone afforded him entrance to the Academy, but it may not make a difference.”

Spock considered all of that for a long moment. “He walks unaided. Why is that?”

“Because the last thing he needs is for the Academy to be reminded of his blindness,” Pike said, sounding tired.

Spock nodded once. “And you, Captain, you care for him.”

“I do. God help me, but that boy is one of the smartest humans I have ever met, and he deserves better than Starfleet will give him. I understand it’s difficult to look past the illogical actions regarding your test, Mr. Spock, but I urge you to try. It will only make matters worse if you pursue this.”

“I will…consider the matter,” Spock said, and he would. But in truth, his mind was already made up.

~*~  
**Three Weeks Later**

“So the hobgoblin drops the ethics hearing just in time for Starfleet assignments,” Bones said as he scanned Jim’s head with the tricorder.

Jim sighed, batting him away. “Fat lot of good it’s going to do. I’m going to be stuck here twiddling my thumbs at some desk while the rest of you are shooting off into the stars.” He tried not to let the bitterness choke him, but it was harder some days than others.

“I…that’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Bones said, his voice suddenly careful and stranger than Jim had ever heard it. “There’s…okay you know Dr. M’Benga?”

Jim snorted. “Yeah, that Vulcanophile?”

Bones sighed, but ignored the comment. “He’s been working on an experimental implant which could…it bypasses the soft tissue in the brain and would allow…” He sighed again. “Damn it, Jim. You might be able to see! And if you can do that, you might get an assignment.”

Jim nearly choked on his own tongue. “I…he. What.” His voice was flat and almost cold. “Bones, this is no time to fuck with me…”

“I’m serious. I was talking to him about you, and how you won’t get an assignment, and he suggested that I bring it up. It’s experimental, no guarantees, but you could meet with him, you know? Damn it, kid, I want you on whatever ship I get assigned to. It might be worth hearing him out.”

The flicker of hope burning in his chest was almost too much to bear. In truth, Jim didn’t care that he was blind. It had never really made much of a difference either way growing up. His parents had accommodated his needs, he’d gone to a good school, had every opportunity afforded to him. It was only when he wanted to fly to space, to touch the stars, that he was met with the wall. Starfleet, for all they were trying, were still slightly xenophobic and slightly purist.

Jim had a defect, and he could hear the disdain in the tone of every professor he’d ever had.

“I’ll…okay,” he said, feeling a cold chill run up his spine. “Set up the appointment, Bones. I’ll at least hear him out.”

“Hell, this might be one of the best days of my life,” Bones said, and Jim could hear the smile in his voice. “But if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll hypo you to sleep for three days.”

~*~ 

Spock stood from the exam table and straightened his sleeve. Dr. M’Benga tapped on his PADD for several moments, then turned back to Spock. “Everything should be uploaded within the next forty-eight hours, and if Starfleet needs any further information, just let me know.”

“I appreciate your prompt attention, Dr. M’Benga,” Spock said. He did not prefer the human doctor to a Vulcan one, but all the same he appreciated one as learned as Dr. M’Benga was. He had been seeing him for the duration of his teaching tenure at the Academy, and was hopeful the doctor might accompany his team when they departed from the planet. “Have you been given an assignment, doctor?”

M’Benga looked up from his chart and frowned. “An assign…oh,” he said, then shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I have experimental work here that will be taking up my time for at least the next five years. So unless all medical personnel are called to action, I’ll be kept planetside.”

“Fascinating,” Spock said. “I was unaware you were involved in research. May I inquire as to your current study?”

“Although I was trained as a xenobiologist,” he said as he reached for the door to open it, “my expertise has proved useful in a few studies regarding the human brain. In specific, rewiring certain centers to others to correct for damage done. I actually have a potential candidate for an implant surgery waiting for me in the lobby.”

He followed Spock out, where Spock came to a near crashing halt. James Kirk was seated in a chair, looking stiff and uncomfortable, clutching a cane between his white-knuckled fingers. When Spock turned, M’Benga had gone, and only the secretary was left, typing something into her desk computer.

Spock hesitated, then decided there would be no logic in using Kirk’s lack of sight against him to leave without acknowledging his own presence. “Cadet Kirk.”

Kirk stiffened, and turned his face toward Spock. “Oh shit. Of all the people I have to run into…”

Spock clasped his hands behind his back as Kirk stood, and then the pieces fell into place when he realized what M’Benga had been saying. “You’re here for the experimental implant.”

Kirk’s face turned into what Spock perceived to be contrary and perhaps bitter. Emotions he felt, himself, especially during his younger years on Vulcan. “Yeah? This doctor excited to talk about how he’s going to experiment on the blind freak?”

Spock’s eyebrows went up. “As you cannot see it, I will confess my face resembles something akin to human shock. I would not presume to accuse the doctor of such a thing. Logic dictates that if he is rewiring aspects of the brain, a candidate such as yourself would be optimal to…”

“Yeah, can we not pretend like I’m some science experiment.” Kirk rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’m a person.”

“Of course. I have offended you, which was not my intention. My apologies.”

Kirk snorted, a sound of disdain, but his face softened after a second. “You dropped the ethics hearing. Pike get to you? Or did my sad blind kid routine actually work?”

Spock felt the corner of his lip twitch in spite of his rigorous training. James Kirk was proving to be a real test of his emotional control, and strangely, the thought thrilled him. “Captain Pike was able to present your situation in a logical manner in which I was able to interpret the point and nature of your actions. While I do not approve, and while I believe that in spite of your disadvantage, you still must accept the Universe is vast and will present many no-win scenarios, I understand the…meaning behind your actions. Although I cannot condone the method in which you chose to act them out.” Before Kirk could say anything, he added, “It would be illogical to call it a breach of ethics, however, as Pike pointed out you wished to win against the system, not the simulation.”

Kirk was still, then his face broke out into a wide grin. Spock felt something strange, heat in the center of his chest which he did his best to push down. “I never thought I’d hear that coming from you. I guess we can stop being mortal enemies now.” He extended his hand, and Spock hesitated.

“Vulcans do not…it is…preferable that we do not…”

“Shit. You’re right,” Jim said. “There’s a salute, right?”

Spock held up the Ta’al, but then realized his mistake. “Perhaps I can make an exception this once, as it would be logical that you would need to touch a hand to understand the salute. If you would not mind, Mr. Kirk?”

“Does that mean I get to say I’m the only human whose ever touched a Vulcan hand?” Kirk asked with a very small smirk. He stepped forward, hand out until Spock slipped his own under Kirk’s fingers. They began to explore the shape of the Ta’al immediately, and although Spock was able to effectively turn off any intimacy in the gesture, it still sent that same, hot feeling rushing through his chest.

“I am afraid,” Spock said once Kirk pulled away, “that you do not get to carry that title. My father is Earth’s ambassador, and as such, he is bonded to a human woman. My mother,” he said.

Kirk’s eyebrows shot up and he took a step back. “You’re half human?”

Spock bowed his head a moment, then looked back up. “I, too, understand what it is like to live with the pressures of a social defect that one cannot change. Vulcans are a proud culture and do not…prefer when things are changed from what they know.”

Kirk’s jaw twitched, like he was going to say something, then he seemed to change his mind and he held up his hand. “How’s this?” His Ta’al was effective, though not entirely perfect. In spite of himself, Spock reached out and made the adjustment.

“You would do justice as an envoy between humans and Vulcans,” Spock said, the closest he ever got to compliments. “I hope your appointment is satisfactory, Mr. Kirk.”

“It’s Jim,” Kirk corrected, and when Spock made the barest noise of confusion, he said, “My friends call me Jim. And I wouldn’t mind if you did too. See you around.”

As Jim walked in the direction of the secretary, so he could be called back to M’Benga, Spock didn’t bother to correct him that, being quite blind, Jim would not be seeing him at all.

~*~

“…and then he said he thinks I’m a pretty good candidate,” Jim said, swirling his pasta around with a fork. He could hear the pointed silence from Sam, confused why the usually mouthy peanut gallery didn’t have anything smartass to say. “So. Yeah. That’s…it, I guess.”

“Did you tell mom and dad.”

Jim bristled. “Well uh. No. Not yet. I mean, I want to get the tests done first and figure out if it might actually work. But think of it, man! I might actually be able to join a crew.”

Sam muttered something under his breath, and when he didn’t clarify, Jim kicked him with eerie precision. “I just…you shouldn’t have to have some shit implanted into your brain to join a ship, Jim. You don’t think that’s bullshit?”

Jim felt his neck get hot with frustration. “Are you serious, Sammy? Of course I think it’s bullshit! I wouldn’t be here right now if I thought any of this was fair.”

“But you’re really going to let some Vulcan doctor root around in your brain like you’re some lab rat just for the possibility you could see.”

Jim dropped his fork with a loud clatter. “And what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know, man. Pulling a mom? Fighting the system, organizing protests, forcing them to see how gross their policies are and make a change? Make them adapt to you, Jim, not the other way around. You’re not the only one who…”

“I know I’m not the only one,” Jim said, “but this is my chance. You really want me to rot away down here while I use up my good years fighting people who are never going to change their minds?”

“Jim,” Sam said, breathy.

Jim slammed his hands on the table, pushing himself up. “Will you? Will you give up your assignment and stay with me and protest? And try to change minds? Will you give up your goals to join the Federation and vote for better policies?”

“Jim,” Sam whispered again.

Jim let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “No. Of course not. It’s expected of me, and you’re more than willing to stand there on your little soap box and tell me what I should and should find acceptable to my life.” He didn’t wait for his brother’s response, instead turning on his heel and heading for the door. He grabbed his cane at the last minute, and then hurried out the door.

When his comm chirped a few minutes later, he set it to silent and felt every foot of distance between himself, and the apartment.

~*~ 

Spock was in a half meditative state in the small park in the commons when he saw him. It was the swishing noise of the cane that first alerted him to the cadet, and he found himself standing as he saw Jim walking across the grass toward him.

“It is an interesting coincidence we keep crossing paths in places that seem illogical for us to cross paths,” he said quietly.

Jim startled, and put a hand to his chest. “Jesus. I had no idea anyone was here.”

“My apologies. I was uncertain how else to alert you to my presence. If you are uncomfortable, I can find another place to…”

“Nah,” Jim said, and collapsed on the bench, letting his cane fall between his parted knees. “I don’t mind the company. I just don’t want _his_ company.”

Spock hesitated, then resumed sitting, his hands on his knees. “I have been told by human acquaintances that sometimes speaking of emotions assists in the ability to deal with them. If you wish, I will be happy to listen.”

Jim’s mouth quirked into a smile, which left Spock feeling breathless all over again. “Sometimes. It’s just my brother being a jackass.”

“An equine…”

“It’s a figure of speech. An insult, actually,” Jim clarified. He rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s…not really on board with this whole surgery implant thing.”

“He does not wish for you to gain sight?” Spock inquired.

Jim shrugged. “I don’t know. Hell, that could be it. Maybe he actually cares. It’s really hard to tell with that guy. We’ve never been really close, you know?”

“I’m afraid I cannot relate to such a sibling relationship.” Spock, at the present time, was unwilling to speak about his own past regarding his immediate family.

Jim dragged a hand down his face and let his head hang backward. “He’s always been there for me. But he’s just…I don’t know. Maybe he’s worried about the potential dangers of the implant.”

“Would you care to divulge that information, and perhaps I can calculate out the risk to your person so as to ease his mind?” Spock offered.

Jim laughed quietly, which was a strange, illogical reaction to Spock’s suggestion, though it was no less pleasing than Jim’s earlier smile. “M’Benga gave me the odds, and they’re not like great, but they’re not awful, either. It’s just hard because no one’s ever gone through this before, you know? But uh, it’s not like I’m going to be able to _see_ , see. Not like most people. Shapes, movement, fuzzy images maybe. Enough that Starfleet might actually okay giving me an appointment aboard a ship. But it could also irreparably damage my brain, could affect my ability to process, could destroy memories, inhibit my ability to make new ones.”

“I can understand your brother’s concern,” Spock said.

Jim shrugged. “I mean hell, me too. It’s not like that doesn’t make me nervous either. But he just…he thinks I should stay here and fight the system. Force Starfleet to allow change, to allow me—and people like me—to take command positions. But he’s not an idiot, he knows how long it takes to get real, progressive change in systems like the Federation. Generations upon generations. I’ll be dead by then.”

“I also understand your position,” Spock said. “You are willing to risk the potential dangers to your person in order to fulfil your personal goal. It is logical.”

Jim’s smile was soft and bright, and Spock found himself wanting to see it more and more. “Exactly. And then he makes me feel like an asshole for not staying back and fighting for others. But he’s not willing to sacrifice his career to stay back with me, so it feels…I don’t know. Selfish. Judgmental.” Jim rubbed the back of his neck again, then leaned forward. “Fuck, this night sucks. Do you like the movies, Mr. Spock?”

“I confess I have never participated in that human social activity.”

“Well I love them, and I would totally love to see one right now. Take my mind off things.”

“Jim, it seems strange to me that I need point out you cannot _see_ a movie at all,” Spock said.

Spock hesitated after that, afraid what he’d said was offensive, but Jim merely laughed. “It’s a figure of speech. Come on, man. How long have you been on Earth?”

“Four point six years,” Spock answered dutifully.

“Then there’s no excuse. Jackass, see? You should have gotten those by now. Movies will help. You’ll be immersed in human colloquialism and culture and our disturbing lack of logic and heightened emotions.”

“Would you not prefer a more…human friend to accompany you, Jim?” Spock offered.

Jim pushed himself to stand, and shook his head, motioning for Spock to follow. “Nope. I would prefer the friend I have standing right here. I can’t lie though, there has to be some touching for this. I don’t go to the movies often enough to know my way completely.”

“I have sleeves covering my arms,” Spock said as he stepped close to Jim. “I believe that will provide sufficient barrier to any telepathic exchange.”

“Good,” Jim said, then folded up his cane, shoved it into his pocket, and took Spock’s arm near the crook of his elbow. “Come on. I heard they’re playing some old SNL productions, and I fucking love that guy.”

~*~ 

“I confess I…do not understand the appeal,” Spock said as they took their seats. The theater sounded totally empty, but this was like a date so Jim insisted they curl up in the very back with the bucket of popcorn between them, and Jim’s overlarge soda, and pockets stuffed with candy which Spock declared unfit for Vulcan consumption.

Jim could hear him sniffing at the popcorn, and couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s tradition,” he said.

Spock scoffed. “It holds no nutritional value, and I believe the topping poured along the top has no resemblance to butter—whether real or replicated. It seems unnecessary to consume such a thing.”

“Humans do illogical things for fun, Spock,” Jim said, then lifted the armrest and leaned into him a little. “Indulge your human side once in a while. I won’t tell anyone what I saw here tonight.”

“I…your jokes are getting easier to predict, even if they are…”

“Illogical,” Jim said for him, then laughed and wiggled the popcorn bucket between them. “Just taste it. If you hate it, you won’t have to eat any of it. We can get dinner after this. I kind of walked out on my pasta earlier anyway.”

Spock sighed, and Jim could hear him crunch into one of the kernels, then another. Then another. “It is…not as displeasing to the palette as I initially assumed, though Vulcans do not usually consume food for pleasure.”

“That sounds awful. I love comfort food. Eat my feelings all the time.”

Spock hesitated, then said, “Another colloquialism?” 

“Yep. Means that I consume mass quantities of human food in order to soothe my emotions. Tastes great, even if it’s not great for my waistline.”

“Your waistline is most satisfactory,” Spock said, then abruptly stopped.

Jim couldn’t help his blush, nor his gratitude when that moment, the noise from the screen alerted him to the previews beginning.

~*~

“I confess,” Spock said in a slightly hushed tone just as the pointy-headed actor was fending off a red-lipped woman’s kisses, “I do not understand the appeal.”

Jim cackled into his sleeve. “You know, now that I hear how much you sound like a Conehead, I can never unhear it! Maintain low tones, Spock. Maintain low tones!”

Spock huffed. “I merely meant to express confusion over your enjoyment of this movie. Much is lost without visuals, is it not?”

Jim sobered a little, and Spock felt a rush of guilt. He opened his mouth to tell Jim he did not mean offense, but Jim spoke then—quietly but kindly. “I used to have a lot of these movies growing up. My dad was a huge old-movie buff. He always got the ones with visual description. Sam always hated it—it’s got a narrator describing the scenes for people who can’t see them. He always refused to watch with us. Anyway…I…” Jim huffed a small laugh, “I’ve watched this so many times I can hear the narrator in my memory.”

“Thank you for your explanation, Jim.” Spock hesitated, then said, “When the movie comes to an end, I would enjoy consuming mass quantities with you.”

Jim was still, silent, then threw his head back and burst into the most musical laughter Spock had ever heard. He leaned in close when he was done, and pushed his face almost directly against the curve of Spock’s jaw and said in a mimic of the actor’s “alien” voice, “I will enjoy it.”

The only food they could find after the movie was a little run-down diner around the corner from the theater. It looked a little dubious, but the menu had a few vegetarian options for Spock, so they slipped into a booth, Jim sliding up next to him.

“Mind helping a guy out?” Jim asked, nudging him lightly.

Spock found himself flushing green. “Of course. How can I assist? The menu is not so large that if you wish me to read it to you…”

“Nah. Just the burgers. Uh…you’re cool if I eat meat, right?”

“It is a personal and cultural preference that I do not partake, but it would be illogical to impose such a restriction on a companion.”

“Hmm. Companion,” Jim repeated, but then fell silent.

When Spock was sure nothing more was to be said, he carefully read out the selected menu items, and when the server finally approached their table—a woman with Betazoid-black eyes and a soft smile—Jim ordered a burger with curly fries, and Spock ordered a plate of steamed vegetables with a side of rice.

“Is the food here way worse than on Vulcan? I mean, for you?” Jim asked.

Spock frowned in thought. “It is acceptable. There are a large variety of Terran flora which satisfies.” Spock hesitated, then said, “Although I confess, I do, at times, miss my mother’s plomeek soup. There is a small restaurant near the Academy which offers a wide xeno-menu but it does not satisfy the same way.”

Jim snorted a laugh. “Yeah. When it rains, all I want in life is my mom’s crappy cheeseburger casserole. I made it for myself a couple times but it’s never the same. It’s not even complicated, you know? Meat, cheese, noodles? But without your mom doing it…”

“The nostalgia,” Spock said. “It is a human emotion I have never been quite successful at mastering.” He paused, then said, “I do miss my mother very much sometimes.”

“Yeah. Growing up sucks.” Jim toyed with the straw in his drink, stirring it through the ice. “I didn’t realize how bad it was going to suck until I got here. I didn’t realize how much of the brunt my parents took—when it came to you know, prejudices against me.”

Spock hummed in understanding, as Jim could not use eyes to read his face. “My mother was not permitted to intervene on my behalf, therefore I had to learn quite young how to navigate certain prejudices of my kind. It became worse when I joined Starfleet instead of the Vulcan Science Academy. Relations with my father became strained. We have had spoken in many years.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

Spock shook his head, then said, “I am shaking my head to indicate that I would dismiss your empathy. It is unnecessary. Recently my father has extended peace, and we are working to rebuild our relationship.”

“That’s good,” Jim said, then smiled and said, “I like when you do that.”

“Clarify,” Spock requested.

“When you tell me what face you’re making or what gesture. I mean, like I’m socially conditioned enough to know that when there’s a silence, someone’s probably nodding or shrugging or whatever. But it’s nice you tell me. I like knowing.”

“It seems a rather simple way of accommodating your need, Jim,” Spock said simply. “Those who would complain—I would hypothesize they are merely trying to be contrary, as it takes very little effort.”

“Yeah well, people aren’t used to having to work around the needs of others. I got into the Academy on my dad’s name and the ridiculous amount of effort I put into being at the top of my class. I had to triple the entrance test scores in order to be considered. No Cadet has ever been required to do that before.”

“And yet you were capable of it. As I believe you will be capable of a great many things, Jim,” Spock said. Out of fondness, he supposed, but also out of logic. Jim Kirk was a remarkable man, and based on that remarkability, Spock had no doubt Jim would set a great many records in his life.

The conversation petered out a little when the food arrived—as it was not customary for Vulcans to talk while eating. But he listened to Jim, and he found that he was the most relaxed he had ever been.

~*~

The walk back to Jim’s apartment was shorter than he wanted it to be, and it was with extreme reluctance that he pulled away from Spock’s arm. “I had a really great time tonight.”

“I found your company most agreeable as well,” Spock said.

“I’d love to. You know, again, if you want?”

Spock was silent, then said, “I gave a non verbal cue that I would be most agreeable to a repeat of the evening.”

Jim’s smile was beaming. “Cool. Uh.” He hesitated, touching the back of his neck. “Is it true about Vulcan ears? Are they really pointed? And do you really blush green?”

“They are, yes,” Spock said, then after a hesitation, Jim felt him touch his wrist, then draw Jim’s fingers to the side of his head. Jim’s fingers explored gently, over the pointed tip, and the heated lobes before pulling away. “And we do blush green, but I confess I wonder if that knowledge means little to you, considering you do not know green, nor do you know the human trait of blushing pink.”

Jim threw his head back and laughed even as his hands came to rest on Spock’s shoulder. “Yeah, you got me there. I just wanted an excuse to touch you. I…feel like maybe…” He licked his lips, and felt nerves rushing through his body because for all he knew he was charming, he was no good at this. And hell, he liked Spock more than he ever, ever expected to. “I like you,” he said finally. “Um.”

“I return the sentiment, Jim,” Spock said softly, not moving to step away from Jim’s fingers which were now brushing along his exposed neck. He felt warm tingles up his arms, and he never wanted to let go.

“If I can see…I mean, if this thing works out, would you want to fly with me? I mean, have me on your team?” Jim asked hesitantly.

Spock turned his head then, and nuzzled against Jim’s palm lightly before pulling away. “I would find it the highest honor that a mind such as yours, would wish to join me on a vessel, Jim Kirk. I find I would be most agreeable to such an endeavor.”

“Then wish me luck,” Jim said.

“Luck is an entirely illogical human fancy, which I do not understand,” Spock said, then Jim felt his hands come up and cup the back of his head. “However I feel secure in Dr. M’Benga’s outcome projections that you will find success.”

Jim licked his lips. “I would really, really like to kiss you right now.”

Spock took in a breath, and when he let it out, there was the faintest tremble to it. “And I, Jim Kirk, find myself reciprocating that desire.”

Though there was no point to it, Jim closed his eyes, and lost himself when soft, Vulcan-warm lips met his own.

~*~ 

Spock had not connected to anyone the way he connected to Jim, and he knew that meditation would be necessary to deal with these surging emotions caused by the younger cadet. But he found himself unwilling to shut them out. The human was brilliant, beautiful, and strong, and Spock felt a strange, aching twinge that Jim was forced to endure such a risky procedure for a slim chance that he would be allowed into space. It was unfair that he was not given a position based on his merits, which far outweighed his graduating class. Spock understood the experience, having worked far more diligently than his own peers in order to achieve entrance to the Science Academy.

But unlike Jim, it was no sacrifice when he gave it up. It was no compromise in order to take a stand.

In the end, remaining with the Vulcans had simply been, for him, illogical.

He found himself buoyed by that thought as he returned to his quarters, and he was almost smiling when he sat at his desk to retrieve his messages.

His good mood was quickly extinguished, however, when he saw his father’s face on the screen. “As you will be traveling with Starfleet for the potential duration of your…time,” Sarek said with a vague, distasteful sneer, “it has become necessary that you formalize your bond with T’Pring before your ship leaves earth. It is only logical, as it will protect you further should your time occur when you are unable to reach Vulcan before the plak-tow. Please make arrangements for myself, your mother, T’Pring, and T’Pau. We can complete the bond on earth in a week’s time.”

The screen went blank, and Spock was left with a gaping hole in his chest when he realized that whatever he felt for Jim, he was already betrothed. So many years before it was easy to forget when Jim’s soft lips were on his. But he had a duty to perform, and he knew if he turned this down, it would end any potential relationship between himself and his father.

The only logical solution was to end his association with Jim Kirk, and ensure that should Jim come out of the surgery with his sight, he not be placed on Spock’s vessel. The ache increased at the thought of it, making him shiver from the pain, but he had no other choice. He had chosen Starfleet, but he was also a Vulcan, and he knew where his loyalties must lie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy I managed to finish early! Thanks for the comments so far! I hope part two lives up to the hype. Anyway it's basically a completely different ending from the movie, but I liked it better this way for Spirk.

Spock was slower than normal to return to his office, the impending visit from his parents, and the necessity to dissuade Jim Kirk from a relationship with him weighing heavily on his mind. He recalled overhearing a conversation between his father and mother before he had decided to choose Starfleet, and he recalled his father expressing some concern over how Spock might deal with the Terran people.

“It will be in his nature to be…drawn to them.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Amanda had said, some humor in her voice.

“We have chosen to raise Spock as a Vulcan. He is bonded, and will eventually undergo Kolinar.” After a brief pause, “My wife. This brings you distress.”

“No. Yes.” She sighed heavily. “He’s a child of two worlds, Sarek, and I understand and will respect his choice, but I can’t lie to you that it does cause me pain. Which I know, you find illogical. But to know ones own son does not love them…”

“His affection for you will always remain great, but he will never succeed, never be respected as a true Vulcan if he does not take this journey.”

Spock recalled the disappointment in his father’s face when he made his choice, and the tears in his mother’s eyes when she held him for that last time. He could control his emotions with logic, but it was her words—a child of two worlds—that stayed with him. It would be unfair to deny himself that. He wished to repair relations with his father without sacrificing what he had on Earth, and he was happy to bond with T’Pring, and uphold his family honor.

Some sacrifices must be made. At times, the scenario was no-win. It was a lesson he had taught, and one he must keep learning.

When Spock reached for his door, he came to a startled halt. Where he had expected his warm, empty office full of a silence he could use to meditate, he found an unexpected person. Jim Kirk, standing by his bookshelf carefully running fingers along the spines of his many books.

When the door opened, Jim spun and offered Spock a grin so wide, it warmed him in spite of himself. “Sorry. I know this is super rude and like I’m probably violating some Vulcan code of ethics being all up in your space. But…I missed you.”

Spock felt his throat tighten against the words he knew he must speak. “Mr. Kirk, do you not have…obligations?”

“Finished my last class for the day, and I thought we could…” He shrugged and dropped his hands to his sides. “I was hungry. There’s this really amazing sandwich shop not far from here if you want? I wasn’t sure if you ate already.”

“I have not,” Spock answered honestly.

Jim nodded, took a breath, then turned back to the bookshelf. “So I can’t tell what any of these are. I tried to use my communicator—it has a function that reads me text, but it’s in some script it couldn’t decode.”

In spite of himself, in spite of what he knew he needed to do, he dropped his satchel and approached Jim. “It is a Vulcan script, and archaic calligraphy which is unknown to most species outside of our own.” He reached past the cadet and pulled a book from the shelf. It was a tome of Vulcan poetry, the first thing his mother had learned to read when she was studying the script. She had gifted it to him—that and one other, Terran book, the day he left for Starfleet. Spock opened the cover to the swirling script, and he did not pull back when Jim’s hand reached out and touched the page.

“Is it a culture thing? The reason it’s not programmed into the language database?”

“I believe,” Spock said slowly, stepping into Jim’s space just a little more, “that it is simply illogical as we have a standard script now. This is used for artistic purposes, mainly.”

“Oh. I get it,” Jim said, though his tone told Spock that perhaps, he did not.

On a whim, Spock said, “Would you grant me permission to?”

“To?” Jim started, then sucked in a breath when Spock touched his wrist and made his intent plain. “Oh. Yeah, sure. Okay.”

Spock ignored the rush of feeling coming from the younger cadet. It was nothing he didn’t expect, but all the same, the affection and want was overwhelming. He put up a block as best he could considering the circumstances, and he carefully adjusted the tips of Jim’s first and middle fingers over the top of the first word. He began to trace them lightly, over the swirls, the lines, the curves and small dots.

Jim swallowed thickly. “What does it say?”

Spock closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. “It is an ancient poem.” He read it then, in Vulcan, not willing to translate the soft words which in that moment felt far too personal for him to express.

It was by some miracle Jim did not ask him to translate, either. He merely turned his hand and squeezed Spock’s wrist before dropping his touch away. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Spock closed the book and eased it back onto the shelf. “It was a parting gift from my mother. She would, at times, read to me from the book when she was learning to read the script. I found it…comforting, in my youth when I did not retain full control of my emotions.”

Jim chuckled softly, then stepped back. He shrugged his shoulders up and down once, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “So. About that dinner?”

Spock opened his mouth to tell Jim the truth—that he could not do this, that he must end things now, but instead the words that tumbled out were anything but. “I would be most agreeable, Jim.”

The worst part was, it was not a lie.

~*~ 

Spock’s initial demeanor had been tense enough that Jim expected a rejection when he offered dinner, so he was pleasantly surprised, and probably more excited than he should be, when they headed off to the little sandwich shop.

It was a place he went a lot, so he kept his cane tucked in his pocket, his hand gently gripping Spock near the elbow, and the conversation flowed—mostly from his side, but that was enough.

He could hear a large enough echo that told him the place was fairly empty, and they approached the counter where Carol was working, and he knew she was grinning. “Evening, Kirk.”

“Evening back atcha, Marcus. This is my guest tonight. VIP, okay? So treat him like a king.”

“That will be unnecessary, Miss Marcus,” Spock said.

Jim’s eyebrows shot up. “You know each other?”

“She has excelled in my class,” Spock said. 

Jim flushed. “Right. Uh. Anyway…” He rubbed the back of his neck and wondered how many rules he was breaking right now being there with a professor—even if said professor was only a couple years older than he was, and wasn’t really _his_ professor at all.

“I will have the vegetarian plate,” Spock said. “Jim, do you require assistance with the menu?”

Jim grinned and shook his head. “Carol knows what I like.”

“Oh, go take your table,” she said with a huff. “It’s open.”

Jim grinned and let go of Spock’s arm, making his way with careful but sure steps to the window. His hand brushed along the edge of the table, then the chair as he pulled it out to sit. He heard the telltale squeak of Spock’s own, on the old, old floors.

A sort of tense silence fell between them, and Jim sighed. “Is the sun still out?”

After a beat, “For approximately two hours and nine point four minutes,” was the reply.

Jim couldn’t help his chuckle. “I love how you do that. I mean, the precise calculations. It’s…hot,” he said, dropping his voice slightly. Then, “Are you blushing?”

“I find I have sufficient control over my blood flow as I am prepared to deal with your methods of, what humans refer to as flirting. Although I am flattered you think so, Jim.”

“Does that mean I get another make-out sesh after this date?”

Spock cleared his throat, so quiet Jim almost missed it.

“You know what,” Jim said before Spock could answer, “let’s just see how the night goes. It’s always better when it’s spontaneous. And on that note…wait here.” He hopped up, and hurried to the counter, tripping over a chair only once, but managed to save face and not fall. He gripped the edge of the counter and gave Carol’s sigh a winning smile. “Favor?”

“You do realize you owe me like a hundred favors, right?”

Jim gave her a tiny pout. “Please. I swear I’ll owe you…whatever you want. Slave for a day, I don’t care.”

She sighed again. “What is it?”

“Can you pack our stuff up in like a picnic? With some drinks and whatever? I have a feeling this guy has never had a picnic at sunset and that’s a travesty.”

Jim only managed to startle slightly when she reached out and gave his cheek a pat. “I’d be angry if your romantic side wasn’t so grossly sincere. I hope this one works out, Jimmy.”

“You’re a goddess. I’ve told you that before, right?”

“You have. And I expect at least a decent offering at my temple by this weekend,” she said. “Go sit. I’ll bring it out in a minute.”

Jim grinned, and made his way back to the table a little more carefully. “Sorry.”

“Might I now inquire as to what that was about? You seemed in a hurry enough to lose your footing.”

Jim waved that off. “No, trust me, I fall way more than that. Last semester when I was rooming with Bones, my physics professor was convinced he was an abusive boyfriend with how many busted lips I showed up to class with. I don’t even notice anymore. And also no. You may not inquire as to what it was about. It’s a surprise.”

“I find that most disconcerting,” Spock said, sounding a little tense.

“Yeah well, you’ll just have to trust me. You can do that, can’t you?”

After a long pause, Spock’s soft, “Yes, Jim. I can,” warmed Jim straight to his core.

~*~ 

The impromptu picnic arrangement only took an extra twenty minutes, and Jim got Spock to follow him outside without much complaint. He led the way mostly, though his hand was still on Spock’s arm, but the walk to the little hill overlooking the bay was, by now, imprinted on him like every braille book he’d devoured as a kid.

“Okay so, you see a hill ahead, right?” Jim asked when he felt his feet move from the sidewalk to the grass.

“Affirmative,” Spock replied.

“Does it look busy? I mean, are there a ton of people or…”

“If I’m correct in assuming you wish to enjoy our meal outdoors, then there is space, Jim,” Spock said.

“Well, since you’re the only one who can actually appreciate the view,” Jim said, and winked in Spock’s direction, “you pick a spot.”

Spock had no reply for that, but he did immediately lead them several paces into the grass before stopping. “This will be sufficient, I think. It provides an aesthetically pleasing view for myself, and is not upwind of anything you might find displeasing to your own senses.”

Jim felt his cheeks get a little pink as he settled into the grass. “I would have brought blankets if I was thinking ahead. But you know…spontaneity and romance.”

“Is this a courting ritual you prefer?” Spock asked, and Jim could hear the crinkle of paper as Spock began to remove their food.

Jim couldn’t help a grin. “Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t really uh…have game?”

“Game,” Spock repeated.

“It’s a figure of speech,” Jim said. “Means that I’m not really…I don’t have a lot of skill in attracting a partner. I mean, okay I know I’m charming and I know how to use it, but I’ve never uh…” Jim leaned back on his elbows and turned his face up to the sky. “Last year Bones set me up on this date with a girl in his xenobiology lab. He uh…he’s driving us, you know, for obvious reasons. And she’s really quiet so I ask her if she’s alright.”

“I take it her answer was less than something you desired,” Spock put in, then nudged his hand and Jim turned it to receive his food.

“Her voice was all wobbly, and she was like, ‘are you…really blind?’ Which, okay? I figured Bones explained the whole thing, right? Apparently she thought maybe it was like a metaphor or something—like I was some womanizer who was blind to love. So when I tell her yes, she just bursts into tears and sobs the entire way to the restaurant.”

“Did you continue the date?” Spock asked.

Jim snorted. “Because I’m a giant jackass who apparently likes causing myself pain, yes, I did. Or well, I got as far as her leaning over to cut my food for me before I faked an emergency call and bailed.”

“I can imagine it is most frustrating to be treated like a child in a situation which you regularly navigate.”

“Something like that,” Jim said, and took a huge bite of his sandwich. “Not everyone’s terrible about it. Bones was kind of weird about it at first. We got thrown together at the dorms and mostly it was just him freaking out because he didn’t want to be offensive.”

“And in that desire not to offend, became more offensive than he might have been under normal circumstances,” Spock filled in, and Jim nodded. “The definition of irony, I believe.”

Jim laughed and felt around until his fingers touched the bottles of sparkling water Carol had packed for them. “Oh yeah. Eventually we went to a bar and got wasted and formed a bond that can’t be broken. Uh…metaphorical. I read up that Vulcans have actual bonds, which yeah, totally not that.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” Spock said, and for just a moment, Jim heard something in his tone that was completely unfamiliar. When he spoke again, however, it was gone. “I hope I do not fall into a negative category with you, Jim.”

“Trust me, Spock. I wouldn’t be here if you did. I mean okay you _were_ kind of an ass, but I also fucked with your simulation so I get you hating me for it…”

“I did not hate you, Jim,” Spock said, very soft now. “I was intrigued, and admittedly frustrated, and uncertain of your motivations initially. It became clear to me, as you know, why you did what you did and I might not approve your methods, but I appreciated the insight into your reasons why. But there was never hatred.”

“That’s…good. That’s really good,” Jim said, and felt warm desire pooling in his belly. He was happy to ignore it for now, to enjoy the last of the evening with Spock as they finished their food. He let Spock clear up the garbage, and then smiled when Spock opened his body slightly so Jim could lean against him. “Sunset nice?”

“There is fog,” Spock admitted. “So it is somewhat obscured. But I do find the view of the bay pleasing. It was no hardship for me to settle here.”

“Will you miss it?” Jim asked quietly.

“I believe so, yes. There are a great many things about my tenure at the Academy that I will miss, once I take my assignment.”

Jim closed his eyes and breathed out through the pain, just for a minute. And he dared, just then, and only to Spock’s ears, to voice his deepest thoughts. “I hope I get the chance to miss it, too.”

“Jim,” Spock said, and after some hesitation, Jim felt long, thin fingers in his hair, “with your record, your skills, your intelligence, it is only logical to assume that you will.”

~*~

“You wanna come in for a minute?” Jim asked as the pair of them stopped in front of Jim’s building. There was longing in his tone Spock could not miss, and he knew it would be foolish to continue on this path. He had let this carry on far too long. There was no hope for himself and Jim to be anything—friends would never satisfy how much Spock wanted Jim, and Spock was already promised to another.

“I do not think that is a wise choice on my part,” Spock finally said. He was going to do this. He was. He wasn’t going to…

His thoughts were immediately jumbled as Jim’s warm, soft hand touched his cheek. “I know this is sensitive for you. I can stop, if you want.”

“No,” Spock said, the answer painful and honest. “No.”

Jim’s anxious grin melted into something soft, and sweet as he pushed up against Spock so they were chest-to-chest. His fingers brushed along his jaw, to his mouth, and then the distance between them was gone. The kiss was hesitant, a careful pushing and pulling dance of warm skin and the hesitant brush of a tongue.

Spock found his entire being yearning, reaching, something inside of him sparking to life he had not known to be long dormant. T’hy’la, his mind supplied, and it was the shock of it that had him ripping away, taking several steps until they were no longer touching.

Jim stood there, looking shell-shocked, one hand outstretched toward him. “Hey. Hey did I do something wrong?”

“No. Yes,” Spock said, and took a breath to compose himself. Everything in him wished to rush back into Jim’s arms, but he could not allow it. “We cannot continue this relationship.”

Jim’s face immediately crumpled. “I don’t…I thought you liked me?”

“Vulcans do not engage in casual partners. Our decisions are made, carefully calculated by who would fit us best.” This was also not a lie, but it was not entirely the truth.

“Oh.” Jim cleared his throat. “Right. I mean, who wants some bum blind dude who isn’t actually going anywhere in life, right?”

“There are defects in ourselves we cannot help, Jim,” Spock started, but Jim took a step back, looking as though he’d been struck across the face.

“Defect.” He laughed, the sound bitter and angry. “Right. You’ve made your point, man. I’ll…see you around. Or well, no. I guess I won’t.”

Spock stood there, bleeding out from the inside as Jim turned and walked inside. A piece of him believed he should go after him, but logic told him this was the only way to sever ties, and to ensure there would no longer be a connection between them.

He would suffer the loss and pain his entire life, and it was only knowing that Jim was surely meant for great things—wonderful things—that he was able to comfort himself. Jim would suffer no great loss by losing him. Someone would come along and understand how unique and wonderful that man was, and give him everything Spock could not.

~*~ 

“Oh hell, kid.” Bones sighed as he sat back in his chair, the sound ugly and creaking. “I always knew they were emotionless robots.”

“He’s not, though. Believe me.” Jim thought back to the way Spock had held him, had _kissed_ him, and Jim wasn’t exactly versed in reading emotions via touch-telepathy, but he was a hundred percent certain that when they were kissing, there were sparks. Sparks he could actually see in his mind. “I just didn’t think he’d be…like that.”

“What? A prejudiced dickbag?” Bones said with a snort. “You know what the Vulcans think of us, Jimmy. It seriously shouldn’t be a surprise he’s just like all the others.”

But it was. After knowing what Spock suffered on Vulcan, what he’d chosen over his own people, Jim had assumed he wasn’t like them. But he supposed old habits died hard, and when you’re indoctrinated… 

“Can we get back to the issue at hand, here? What do the test results say?” Jim demanded.

At the sound of Bones’ silence, Jim knew. “It’s not lookin’ too good, kid. I mean, you can go through with it, there’s a chance it’ll take, but M’Benga’s pretty sure you won’t get much of anything. Not enough to…”

“Qualify for an assignment,” Jim said in a quiet voice. He let out a bitter laugh. “That’s…that figures. That just fucking figures.”

“Look, Jim, medical advances are being made every day. And who’s to say what’s going to come out in a few years, you know?”

“Right. I’ll be sure to enjoy the fruits of medical advancement to read the fucking paper for the first time when I turn sixty,” Jim spat bitterly. He rose, then reached for the cane in his back pocket. “I have to go.”

“Aww, come on, kid. Please don’t leave angry,” Bones begged. “I didn’t want to bring you down, and I don’t want you to stop trying to…”

“What? Live life according to what Starfleet wants? To go above and beyond for fucking…peanut assignments?” Jim shook his head. “I’m tired of pretending I’m not blind here, Bones. I want to walk with my cane without being afraid one of my professors is going to see it and remember I can’t see. I want to go on a goddamned date without her crying or without him dumping me because I don’t live up to their expectations of what I should be. I just…I want to be me, and I want the same shot as everyone else. But that’s not going to happen. We both know that. So just let me wallow, okay, man? Let me go get wasted and spend a few days eating my feelings.”

“And then what?” Bones asked quietly.

“And then I don’t fucking know,” Jim said. “I’ll figure it out. But I can’t keep living like this anymore. It’s just time to accept it. What is, is.”

“Very Vulcan of you, kid.”

“Yeah well, at least that relationship taught me something,” Jim said, then turned and left the office.

~*~ 

Jim startled when the chair across from him scraped across the floor. His hand closed reflexively on his bottle of sparkling water.

“Sorry.” It was Carol, sounding a little flushed. “Sorry, shit. I should have said something. Just…you look so damned despondent over here, Jim. What happened to that cute, pointy-eared guy you brought in the other night?”

“Well it ended. In flames. Like every single one of my hopes and dreams.”

“That’s…dark, Jim.”

“Yeah well, sort of fits my aesthetic, doesn’t it?” he said, only a trace of bitterness now. The sandwich tasted like dirt, and he felt strangely cold since Spock had cut him off. “He dumped me because I’m blind.”

“What?” Carol made a noise in the back of her throat. “Seriously?”

“He implied that I had certain defects that wouldn’t mesh well with his Vulcan way of life, and clearly that’s the whole, I’m blind, so I could never get a job with Starfleet, so I’ll be stuck planet-side for the rest of my life while you guys are all fending the galaxy off from Klingons and Romulans and whatever the hell else is lurking in the shadows.” After a beat, Jim said, “And please don’t try to give me some, this isn’t like you pep talk, okay? I’ve been fighting my whole goddamn life and I’m just…tired.”

“I get it,” she said, then amended, “I mean, I don’t. But I’m not going to tell you what to do. I just thought you might want some company. You’re a good guy, Jim. I hate when you look this sad.”

Jim sighed, then shrugged. “Want to go get wasted with me? Bones is on my shit-list right now, but I could use a drinking buddy.”

“You know what? Why the fuck not. I’ve had to deal with my dad’s crap all day, and a couple of shots sounds really good right about now.”

Which was how Jim found himself at the one bar near the campus, doing a body-shot off Carol. He grabbed her wrist, sucking the salt off before popping the lime in his mouth, and it was gross, and nothing like what he wanted, but damn it felt good to just let go.

“I just don’t get it,” Jim said as the night wore on. “I mean, I’m a catch, you know. I’m good looking, right? I’m not the best judge but I feel pretty svelt…” He lifted his shirt, and heard her giggle and she batted his hand away, tugging his shirt down.

“Yes, Jim. You’re gorgeous. He’s an idiot for letting that go. And I still don’t think…I mean, there has to be some other reason, you know?”

Jim nodded sagely, but before he could respond, he felt something warm in his limbs. It took him a moment to realize that it was Spock. He was here, in the bar, and close enough that whatever had connected them before was attempting to do it again.

“Oh hell no. He’s here,” Jim slurred. “Where is he? Point me at ‘em!”

Carol, who was just drunk enough to not realize that pointing a drunk, belligerent Jim Kirk in the direction of an emotionally compromised Vulcan might not be the best idea. She turned him by the hips and leaned into the back of his ear. “Two o’clock. And he totally knows you’re here. He’s watching us.”

“Ooooohfff course he is,” Jim slurred, then just barreled forward until strong arms caught him. “Son of a bitch! You cold, green-blooded son of a bitch! And I don’t…I don’t even know what green looks like but I know it’s the worst color because you are the worst and I’m gonna fight you right here!” Jim took a swing, but his hand was caught easily in warm, steady fingers.

“Jim, this is not the place,” Spock warned in a voice low, but rising above the music. “Control yourself.”

“Why?” Jim asked, pushing Spock away. He squared his shoulders. “Afraid of what it’ll make you look like if you get taken down by a blind guy?”

“I have approximately three-point-two times the strength of the average man. I am also fully aware your lack of sight does not impede your ability to be in top physical form. Which you are. But I have no wish to fight with you.”

Jim swung again, and again, he was caught. “Why’re you here. You don’t drink. You don’t…you just…”

“I saw you, and I would like to explain my behavior from before. I misled you and that was unfair of me.”

“Oh. Oh man. Oh man, fuck you!” Jim said, then spun and grabbed the nearest warm body next to him. “M’blind and need’a get out of here. Help a guy out?”

There was a scuffle, then Spock had him again, not touching his skin, but with fingers twisted in his shirt as he led Jim from the bar, into the cool street.

“So. We gonna do this?” Jim demanded.

There was a pause, then Spock said, “I am bonded. I have been from the age of seven, to a Vulcan woman named T’Pring.”

“You’re _married_ ,” Jim all-but howled. He slapped the tops of his thighs as he doubled over in laughter. “You’re shitting me. You’re married. So you’re cheating.”

“It is not like that. Please, be reasonable and listen.” It was the begging note in Spock’s tone that had Jim sobering more quickly than he wanted to. “Vulcans experience a specific biological reaction during their lives—to do with mating which can be fatal. In order to combat the biological urge to…cause harm, we are bonded. I was uncertain the bond would hold—due to being half-human, and due to my joining Starfleet. But my father wished for me to complete the bond…and I must.”

Jim dragged a hand down his face and fought back nausea. “You’re…god. Why are you here? What does it even matter? Do you think that makes it easier for me to hear, Spock? What, so it’s not the blind thing, it’s the fact that you’re selling yourself off to some stranger you knew when you were seven?”

“It is the Vulcan way,” Spock defended weakly.

“It’s a stupid way,” Jim spat. “You want me. You like me. There’s something between us beyond just…just normal bullshit, and I know you can feel it. I can feel it because of you! And you’re telling me we can’t…I mean…” Jim shook his head. “Why can’t you just choose me?”

“That would destroy what fragile communication I have left with my family,” Spock admitted.

That stunned Jim into silence, because drunk or not, and in love or not, he couldn’t ask Spock to give up his family for this. For a maybe. Because it’s true, he wasn’t a Vulcan at all, was he? He didn’t get it, he had no idea what any of it meant. And Spock had a five year assignment with Pike’s crew, and Jim would be left behind.

“I…I have to get home.”

“Let me,” Spock started, but Jim held up a hand.

“Don’t. Just…let me go, okay? I get it. I don’t know that I’m ever going to get over it, but I get it. So just…leave me with whatever shred of dignity I have left, and let me go.”

There was nothing but silence, and Jim used that time to call himself an aircar to take him home.

~*~ 

Spock had forgotten the intense discomfort he felt surrounded by those of his homeworld. It was by bloodline alone that T’Pau had agreed to the journey, and Spock could not deny there was a certain hostility from her grand-nephew, Stonn, when he fixed eyes on Spock.

T’Pring herself had done nothing besides given Spock an emotionless, cool ta’al before stepping aside, and then his mother and Sarek entered the room. He supposed it was living on earth this long that his first instinct was to embrace his mother, but he stopped himself before his body made a single move, and instead lifted his hand in greeting.

“Thank you for attending me here,” Spock said.

T’Pau gave a sniff, then turned back to those attending her. “We will convene tomorrow at dusk. We will join in meal before the ceremony. I do expect that your future Starfleet captain has been briefed on your necessity to return to Vulcan when the time comes.”

Spock nodded once. “Captain Pike is both learned and discrete. When my time arrives—”

“ _Should_ it arrive,” Stonn spoke up.

Spock merely graced him with a quirked brow. “…he will make accommodations.”

T’Pau seemed satisfied by this answer, and turned to T’Pring. “Do you wish to stay with your bonded?”

“I would find it most illogical, as it is no where near his time and therefore my presence in his home would be more a hindrance. I will accompany you and Stonn to the quarters provided by Starfleet.”

Spock didn’t miss the curious look on his mother’s face, though she kept her thoughts to herself. The three of them stood until the entourage was departed, and then Spock gestured for them to step inside. “I have a meal being prepared for us. After which, I will show you to your quarters.”

“I must use your communicator,” Sarek said. “I have other business now that I have returned to Earth.”

Spock quickly showed him the way to his office, then returned to find his mother waiting in the living room for him. After a beat, she crossed the room and laid a warm hand on his cheek. The last time she had done so, he had pulled away and berated her for such a display of emotion. Now, as he was suffering emotional compromise due to the loss of Jim Kirk, he not only welcomed it, but relished in the comfort.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Sa-fu.”

Spock warmed a little more at the sound of his language on her tongue. He turned to her, then decided if his father could hear him, he would still speak the truth. “I have…developed feelings for a human. A cadet here in his final year. Against my better judgement we began courting, and I ended our association after speaking with Sarek.”

Amanda winced at the way Spock used his father’s name, but she merely reached out and touched his wrist, sending a wave of comfort toward him. “Matters of the heart are rarely without complication, Spock. You do know you can break the bond between yourself and T’Pring.”

“Which would cause an irreparable slight against Sarek,” Spock told her.

“I think you should give him more credit than that. He was…displeased with the decision you made, but he’s come to realize it was the best option for you. He pushed you to become the Vulcan you were, but ultimately, you chose to embrace more than just logic.”

Spock bowed his head. “Sometimes I wish I had chosen another path. The cruelty of my brethren would have been no bother had I purged all emotion.”

“And you would not be my son if you had made that choice,” Amanda pointed out. “You have created your life, you should live it the way you see fit.” She paused, then said, “Tell me about this cadet.”

“His name is James Kirk. His father is Admiral George Kirk, and he lives up to the name in both his knowledge and strength. He faces challenges that most do not, however, and I am not sure there is a career for him with Starfleet.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “How so? If he’s all that you say he is?”

Spock looked down again. “He is blind. And they are…much like our people. They do not take to differences or things they consider disadvantages very well. He has been told as much. He is facing an operation which will put him at undue risk simply because they still function under old prejudices.”

“Is he really able to outperform others, though?” Amanda challenged.

Spock raised a brow at her. “Mother, Jim Kirk is so far the only cadet who has been able to successfully beat the Kobayashi Maru. I designed it myself, as a no-win scenario, and he won.”

“I see,” she said, very slowly.

Spock gave an internal sigh. “It is the will of Starfleet, however, that he remain considered too high risk for an assignment.”

“That is not logical,” Sarek said as he stepped into the room. Spock froze, lifting only a brow as Sarek grasped his arms behind his back. “If his performance shows that he can perform his duties with little risk, if he truly beat _your_ program, it would only be logical to assign him to a ship. Such a thing would not happen on Vulcan.”

“Indeed?” Spock challenged. “Although I am living proof.”

“Clarify,” Sarek demanded.

“I outperformed many of my peers and it took an intervention in order to grant me acceptance to the Vulcan Science Academy. And it was made clear to me that it was happening in spite of what they considered a disadvantage, though logically I had showed none. Not by that age.”

Sarek’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, just once. “I suppose such a thing exists in all forms.”

“Indeed,” Spock said. “I would like to clarify that I have ended my association with James Kirk, so his affairs are no longer a concern of mine.”

“And yet you suffer,” Sarek said.

Spock didn’t dare look at him. “I have retained full control of my emotions, and whatever discomfort I am experiencing, I am not compromised.”

“My wife,” Sarek said after a long moment, “I must attend a consulate, and will return late. You will dine with…our son,” and Spock understood the term ‘our’ was deliberate.

They touched fingers, then Sarek was gone, leaving Spock with his mother. It was just as well, as Spock was still injured, and it would be some time before he would recover.

~*~ 

Spock paused at Pike’s office door, then knocked. He was surprised to receive the summons from the Captain, as he had no need to speak to him and they had no pressing business. All the same, he would be remiss to ignore a summons from a man who was soon to be his superior officer, even during the time of his bonding.

Composing himself, Spock knocked and was immediately let in. Pike was behind his desk, and his face softened into a smile. “Lieutenant Commander.”

“As I have not been officially promoted to such title,” Spock began, but his words trailed off as Pike waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Have a seat. I need your opinion on a few things. I’ve been given the USS Enterprise, and I have already listed you as First Officer.”

Spock lifted a brow, but otherwise showed no signs of his surprise. “How might I assist you?”

“I have been given a…” Pike stopped, and looked like he was considering his words. When he finished, he leaned over the desk and met Spock’s gaze. “Someone has spoken to the higher-ups on the behalf of one Cadet James T. Kirk.”

Spock’s eyes widened just a fraction. “I…see. Regarding what, if I might inquire?”

“Regarding a placement on a ship. My ship, to be exact,” Pike said, and it was a near thing that Spock managed to keep his emotional control. “It seems it was brought to the attention of Starfleet that Jim is being unfairly discriminated against in spite of his scores, and his abilities. He is, after all, the Cadet who beat the Kobayashi Maru.”

It was in that moment Spock understood who had come forward about Jim. His throat felt suddenly tight, and it took him six point nine seconds to recover. “I must…forgive me, Captain, but I must attend to business.”

“Dismissed,” Pike said with a wave of his hand, but then stood. “Spock…you do agree he would make a good fit for our ship?”

Spock turned, very slowly, and met Pike’s gaze with a steady, fierce passion. “James Kirk is a reckless Cadet who frequently ignores the orders of his superiors, and does not always abide by Starfleet command.” He stopped, and Pike didn’t break their eye contact. “It is, with that knowledge in mind, I say that James Kirk would be the largest and most important asset you can have on the Enterprise. Above myself.”

Pike’s mouth twitched into a slight smile, then he eased back into his chair. “You know there’s no official rules when it comes to fraternizing with crew members, right? As long as you sign a waiver?”

The left corner of Spock’s mouth rose, just a hair, and he nodded. “I am aware, Captain. Thank you.” Then he was out the door, and though he wasn’t running, it was a near thing.

~*~ 

Jim was moping, and hung over, and packing, because what was the point of finishing out the semester when it was going to end in nothing. He wasn’t going to stay here like Sam suggested and start trying to gather protesters. He just didn’t have it in him anymore. Law school was an option, of course. Terran jobs were far less discriminatory than Starfleet, and his scores to this point had been the very top of his class. It would be unlikely he would be rejected. And then he could affect some change.

But the whole thing felt too heavy a weight right then. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, pull the covers up over his head and sleep for the next month.

It was just as well, when the knocking started on his door, and when it didn’t go away after a few minutes, he rose. He put on his bitchiest face and strolled over, yanking it open. “Whatever you’re selling I don’t…” His words stopped, not from being interrupted, but by the tingling, too-familiar warmth in his limbs. His jaw worked before he could say his name. “Spock?”

“I’ve come to ask your forgiveness, though I do not deserve it.”

Jim sighed. “Man, I thought we moved past this. I get it, okay? I do. You have space and I have…whatever down here, and you’ve got your Vulcan wife and…”

“I have severed the bond between myself and T’Pring,” Spock said, his words almost rushed. “I was foolish for that choice, and a coward, Jim. A shame I will take with me through my entire life.”

Jim rubbed a hand down his face and tried to ignore the fire of hope that roared to life in his chest. “We can’t,” he said, the words like chewing glass. “Spock, you’re still going to space. You’re still…”

“Jim. Have you been ignoring your PADD messages?”

Jim made a noise of irritation as he stepped back, realizing he didn’t want to have this conversation with Spock in the damn hall. “Just…come in. And yes, Pike has been bothering me all day, but I’m not in the mood for platitudes.”

Spock stepped right into Jim’s space, and put one hand on his shoulder. “Please check the messages, Jim.”

Hearing Spock all-but begging, he realized he couldn’t deny the request. He turned, hearing Spock follow him to his bedroom, and he reached for his desk, his fingertips brushing over his things until he found his PADD he’d shoved under a dirty hoodie. He backed up, his hand behind him as he reached for his bed, then sat.

He could tell Spock was hovering somewhere near him, but he chose to ignore him for the moment. “Read messages, Pike, comma, Christopher,” he ordered.

In the years to come, Jim would always remember this moment as though he was outside of his body. The shock of it all—a very real, physical shock—was enough to have his ears ringing, enough that he had to have the PADD read the messages twice, because James T. Kirk was being given an assignment under Captain Christopher Pike.

“I…this is…how?” Jim stuttered, letting the PADD fall from his fingers. It clattered to the floor, and he heard it pushed aside, and then felt Spock kneel between his parted knees. Spock’s warm, _warm_ hands pressed to the tops of his thighs.

“A certain ambassador made Starfleet realize the potential they were squandering when they had written you off.” Spock’s hands crept higher, over Jim’s, over his arms, to his face where it was cupped gently, like he was something treasured and precious. “And understand something, Jim, being with you, choosing you, would be no great sacrifice. Not for me. We are T’hy’la. Ours is a bond with great potential that most Vulcans will never get to experience, and if that meant staying here and continuing my teaching while you find your place in the world, I would gladly accept it. Except that, I confess—as illogical as it is—I do wish to take to the stars with you. If you will accept the position—and if you will forgive me.”

“Jesus,” Jim choked out, curling his hands around Spock’s wrists and holding Spock’s hands to his cheeks with a fierceness he couldn’t name. “Who the hell said Vulcans weren’t romantic.”

“No one has ever made such a claim. At least, none that can read our poetry.”

“So basically everyone except archaic nerd Vulcans who study their own, dead language.”

Spock couldn’t help the barest, smallest huff of laughter. “Not entirely accurate, but the description will do.”

Jim let himself pause, let himself feel the sincerity in Spock’s sure touch, let himself bask in the knowledge that he’d done it. “Who…” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Do you know who it was?”

“I…yes,” Spock confessed, and there was hesitancy in his tone. “My…my father, it seems, can still surprise me even when I am certain I know him.”

Jim’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

Spock sat back, letting his hands fall to Jim’s thighs, and he squeezed them lightly, as though seeking some sort of tactile comfort. “They arrived with my former betrothed, with T’Pau of the Vulcan High Council, and with her nephew Stonn. I assumed my father would not understand my feelings for you, but when my mother questioned my sorrow, I confessed the truth to her. My father overheard, and found it illogical and disappointing that Starfleet would ignore such talent from such an old prejudice. So he used some of his connections to, as they say, pull rank. Captain Pike informed me of it just this afternoon.”

“What took you so long to get here, then?” Jim asked, aware that his voice sounded heavy with emotions, but he couldn’t help it. It was still hard to believe that all of this—everything—was falling into his lap.

“I could not arrive here with an open heart and such promises without ending the first ones I had made.”

Jim huffed a laugh, then seized Spock’s collar and hauled him in, burying his face against the Vulcan’s neck. “Was she pissed? Your ex?”

Spock hummed as he dug his fingers into Jim’s hair, dragging his blunt nails along his scalp. “She was…in a sense, relieved. She had formed a strong connection with Stonn, and intended to have him challenge me for her. It seems I made the situation easier on the both of us by admitting what I was not willing to give up.” When Jim said nothing, Spock eased him back and cupped his face again. “I cannot be human. I am not capable of being…as you are. But I endeavor to show that you, ashayam, are what matters most—beyond logic and reason.”

“Yeah so…I’m gonna need you to kiss me like right now. And other things. A lot of other things,” Jim murmured, then hauled Spock in, and their lips crashed together.

Jim felt it then, the bright heat of the bond between them, like a mental thread curling around him, and tugging close until he couldn’t tell himself from Spock. He knew this was just the beginning, and there would be more, but for now, this was all he needed.

Spock worked with deft, clever hands to get their clothing off, to ease Jim back onto the bed, to take him apart with a slowness that threatened to drive Jim crazy. His mouth was everywhere, it seemed, all at once. And his hands—god his hands—pulling pleasure from tiny spaces in Jim’s body he didn’t know were capable of making him feel that way.

When Spock crouched between his legs and took Jim in his mouth, Jim’s head fell back and he arched his hips, bucking into the tight circle of Spock’s lips. No one had ever, ever touched him this way, and he was too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed that he lasted only minutes.

When Spock pulled back, Jim pushed him over and hovered over him with one arm pressed into the mattress, his other hand touching the center of Spock’s chest. “How different are you from humans?”

“My color is greener,” Spock said. “My nipples are darker, and I have less hair generally. Vulcans do not sweat, and we do not cry.”

Jim’s hand trailed up, his fingertips tracing Spock’s mouth before dipping in just for a second. “Hand thing. This would be…a lot for you, wouldn’t it?”

“When I allowed the sensitivity to move into pleasure, yes,” Spock said, then gripped Jim’s wrist and nipped at the pads of his fingers.

Jim grinned, and moved his hand downward. “And this? Is this different?” He cupped his hand and felt where he expected a penis, and found one. Hot, throbbing, thick. Beneath, he lacked testicles, and Jim pressed his fingers into his perineum. “Vulcan or human?”

“Vulcans share enough characteristics with humans that we can interbreed and remain fertile,” Spock said, urging Jim’s hand back to his erection. Jim began to pump lightly, the way he normally liked it, and he grinned when he heard a hitch in Spock’s breathing. “I…” Spock cleared his throat, obviously trying to keep his control. “My Vulcan characteristics are stronger than human ones.”

“So this is a Vulcan penis.” Jim grinned and squeezed a little harder, stroked a little faster. “Fascinating.”

Moments later, Spock came—a hot, wet spurt over Jim’s fingers.

Lifting his hand to his mouth, he tasted the seed—not unpleasant—and he heard Spock groan quietly under his breath. He let Spock take the lead in cleaning them up, then tugged Spock to him, under the blankets of the mussed bedding.

“Stay tonight?”

“I have nowhere to be besides here,” Spock said.

Jim curled around Spock’s back, feeling wanted, feeling safe, still not entirely done processing everything, but he was happy. Whatever lingering bitterness over the momentary break up was soothed by the post-coital bliss. He dragged his fingers in slow circles, reminiscent of the Vulcan calligraphy he remembered Spock helping him trace on the book. “What does ashayam mean?”

“Beloved,” Spock said. “Something private, between us, but important. You are ashayam.”

Jim ducked his head and buried his face in the back of Spock’s neck. “That’s…going to take some getting used to. But we have time, don’t we?”

Spock hummed his agreement as he nestled backward. “We do, yes.”

“It’s a five year mission,” Jim murmured as sleep started to take him. “That’s…a good long time. I think it’ll be great.”

“Whatever it is,” Spock said, as Jim continued to drift, “I am pleased to know it will be spent with you.”


End file.
